Head Games
by Tifaching
Summary: An angry spirit injures Dean and stalks him afterward. Hurt!Dean and awesome!Sam.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Written for a prompt at the hoodie time Dean focused hurt comfort meme. While hunting an angry spirit, Dean gets thrown into a headstone and gets a head injury that temporarily messes with his vision. Sam takes him to the ER where they recommend he has rest to recover from the conk on the head. When Sam leaves Dean alone when he goes to get supplies, the spirit lures Dean out of the room where he stumbles over the hotel grounds practically blind and fighting intense headaches. Author's choice as to what the spirit does to taunt and play with Dean. Bonus for traumatized Dean clinging to Sam afterward. I'm afraid I couldn't make it work in a hotel, so I set it in some cabins in the woods.  
>Disclaimer: SPN belongs to the CW and Kripke. I just play for fun.<p>

Head Games

"His head," Sam thought, "why is it always his God damned head?" The Impala roared away from the rural cemetery where the spirit of serial killer Richard Jenkins had just thrown Dean forehead first into his neighbor's headstone. Sam had been digging while his brother kept watch, and Jenkins had materialized behind Dean and sent him flying. Sam had grabbed his shotgun and fired a few salt rounds at the ghost pummeling his unconscious brother, but Jenkins rematerialized almost instantly and began attacking Dean again. There was no way Sam was going to finish digging up the grave tonight, never mind getting the bones salted and burned. The spirit wasn't going to give him the time. Sam shot another round through Jenkins and threw himself on top of his brother, the words to a banishment ritual shooting quickly through his lips. The ghost disappeared with a growl and Sam quickly pulled Dean to his feet and carried him to the Impala. The banishment wouldn't work for long and Sam wanted to be out of the cemetery before the thing came back.

Jenkins reappeared as the Impala's headlights were disappearing into the distance. In life he had been a powerful psychic, and death hadn't weakened his powers at all. It was a secret he had shared only with his victims and, when he was done with them, they had taken the knowledge to their graves. Plundering the minds of his prey had allowed him access to all their darkest fears and secrets. His talent also extended to putting things into their minds. The combination had made for some amazingly satisfactory hunts and kills. He had scanned the minds of the young men who were foolish enough to enter his territory to try to destroy him and he couldn't wait to get back together with the one he had attacked. His mind was full of self-doubt, fear and anguish. The possibilities were endless.

The dark, twisting road didn't lend itself to driving while distracted so Sam had to content himself with quick glances at his brother. Dean was slumped on the passenger side, head lolling toward Sam, who had carefully positioned him so his head wouldn't be resting against the hard window. Dean's eyes were closed and his face was slack, blood trickling sluggishly from a gash on his forehead. Keeping his eyes on the winding road, Sam reached out and touched Dean's face. His skin felt cold and Sam could feel him trembling under his fingers. He was in shock and Sam decided that Dean's latest head injury warranted a visit to the E.R. Since one of Winchester 101's lessons was to always know where the nearest hospital is, Sam knew he could have Dean there in a little under half an hour. Driving as fast as he dared on the back road, Sam headed for town

. *******************************************

The hospital was a small one, and the E.R. wasn't crowded when Sam hauled Dean through the doors. Dean had started to come around a few minutes before and his hands twitched and grasped at Sam. He was trying to talk, but only incoherent sounds were making it out of his mouth. Sam gently lowered them into the chairs along the wall and cradled Dean's head against his shoulder as a nurse made her way over.

"Is he injured anywhere else?" she asked, her gaze taking in Dean's bleeding forehead and trembling body.

Sam started to shake his head and then stopped himself as he thought of the beating Jenkins had given Dean before Sam had gotten to them. "I don't know. We were hiking and he tripped and went down an embankment. I know he hit his head on a rock at the bottom, but he could have banged himself up more on the way down."

"O.k., I'm going to get a gurney and we'll get him into an exam room. If you would fill out this form for me while you're waiting, we'd like any pertinent medical history. Can you help us out with that?"

Sam nodded. "He's my brother. I think I can give you what you need. Can I go with him to the exam?"

"I'm sorry," she smiled, but it did nothing to reassure Sam. "We need to examine your brother in private. We'll let you know when you can come in."

Sam continued to hold Dean until the orderly came to take him to be examined. Dean's hand gripped Sam's shirt as they tried to lower him to the gurney. His eyes opened, but they were dull and unfocused.

"S'm, d'n, S'm?"

Sam took Dean's hand and gently detached his fingers from their death grip on his shirt. "It's o.k., Dean. You're at the hospital. Took a pretty good conk to that thick skull of yours. The doctors are going to check you out now and I'll be in as soon as they're done." Sam filled out the information on Dean's medical history and handed the clipboard back to the nurse at the admissions desk. Trying to sit in the chairs and wait just didn't work. This wasn't Dean's first concussion and Sam knew the effects of head injuries like that were cumulative. The headaches, nausea and vision problems would probably be worse this time and memories of how awful they had been after the last concussion had Sam up and pacing the length of the small room.

An hour and a half later the nurse returned to tell him they wanted to keep Dean overnight for observation. In addition to the head injury, he had some bruised ribs and a sprained left wrist. He would probably be able to be released in the morning and Sam was welcome to stay in his room for the night.

Sam eyed her suspiciously. Generally if one or the other of them was hospitalized overnight the other had to fight to be able to stay. Usually the staff threw them out until it was either visiting hours or discharge time.

The nurse noticed his look and smiled. "He's being a little difficult." she explained. "Sometimes with head injuries like this, the patient will have some short term memory loss. We keep telling him he was hurt in a hiking accident and that you're o.k., but twenty minutes later he's forgotten what we've told him and he gets anxious and upset all over again. We can't sedate him because of the concussion, but we've given him some mild pain relievers. He's got some vision issues and a killer headache, but that should clear up in a few days. Truthfully, with the pain he's in and the problems with his sight, he should be giving us a lot less trouble than he is. Your brother's quite a handful."

"And you think keeping me where he can see me all night will make him more cooperative?" Sam smiled ruefully and sighed. The nurse was probably right. His brother, the jerk, always worried more about Sam than he did himself. Dean's head must be killing him and the combination of not being able to see and forgetting everything he was told couldn't be helping out with his being "difficult." "I'm sure "difficult" is your way of saying he's being a real pain in the ass. And he's giving you grief about me when he should be passing out from the pain like a normal patient would. Jerk."

The nurse gave him a look and Sam gave her back a real smile. "Term of brotherly affection. You should hear what he calls me."

She smiled politely and ushered him through the open door to Dean's room. The lights were dimmed and the conversation was muted and lying in the middle of a clutch of nurses struggling to keep an I.V. in his arm, was his brother. Dean's eyes were covered with small gauze patches and his hands couldn't seem to decide if what they wanted was to peel the gauze patches off or pull out the I.V.. The more the nurses tried to hold him down, the more he fought, even if his efforts were weak and not terribly effective.

"Hey,!" Sam surged forward and gently pulled the nurse away from Dean's non-I.V. arm. "Restraining him is only going to make things worse. Trust me." Although Sam had been speaking in a normal tone of voice, it was much louder than anything else in the room and Dean winced and grabbed at Sam's arm.

"Sammy? Stop yelling," he moaned. "Where you been? You o.k.? Not hurt?"

"I'm o.k.. Dean. Stop worrying about me. You're the one with all the hot nurses working on you."

"Can't see, Sam. Head hurts."

Sam realized how badly Dean was hurting when he let the hot nurses line go by. "You took a bad knock to the head, Dean. Your eyes are covered because the light would be too much for them right now and the double vision would be making you nauseous." He doesn't want to remind his brother about how bad his last concussion had been. Dean's mind doesn't seem to be up to much right now anyway.

"I'm sick?"

"Yeah, Dean." Sam pulled a chair up to Dean's bedside and made himself comfortable. He put his hand over Dean's. "They want to keep you overnight and I can take you out of here in the morning. You have to behave though, and keep the covering over your eyes and your I.V. in. Think you can manage that?"

"Not a baby, bitch," Dean muttered as he let himself relax back onto his pillow. Sam grinned at the nurse, who grinned back.

"Term of brotherly affection?" she asked good humoredly.

"That's the one." Sam replied. His relief at this sign of normalcy from his brother was short lived when Dean gasped and stiffened, his hand grasping at Sam's. Sam stared in alarm as Dean panted, breaths coming fast and short. One of the nurses pushed Sam out of the way as Dean gulped and held a basin under Dean's head as one of her co-workers rolled him onto his side to vomit. Not much came up but bile, and Sam was sure this wasn't the first time Dean had vomited. They held the basin until his retching tapered off and then rolled him onto his back where he lay still and breathed through gritted teeth,one arm wrapped around his ribs.

"Sorry about that," the nurse said. "Nausea and vomiting sometimes go along with head injuries like this. It's normal and should pass within a day or two."

Sam nodded grimly as he replied, "I know. Dean's led kind of an exciting life. This isn't the first time his head's been slammed into something. I have a pretty good idea what to expect for the next little while."

"I saw from your information that you're not from around here. He can't travel, you know. He needs to be some place dark and quiet for the next few days at least. Maybe as much as a week."

"We've been staying at the truck stop motel out by the interstate. That's not going to work at all, but I haven't seen any place else to stay around here. Is there anywhere that doesn't have eighteen wheelers pulling in and out twenty four hours a day?"

"Well, you're in luck there." the nurse replied with a smile. "My in-laws run a place a couple of miles out of town. It's cabins instead of rooms, but they're private, clean and quiet. Nothing out there, but you and the deer, especially this time of year. Ask for number eleven. It's the furthest from everything and so quiet you won't know you aren't the only people for a hundred miles."

Sam was about to thank her when Dean began to stir again. "S'm? Can't see. What happened?"

The nurse quirked her lip at Sam. "It's going to be a long night. Hopefully he'll sleep a few hours and won't be so confused when he wakes up."

"Where's Sam!" Dean was getting more insistent and starting to pull at his eye coverings again, before letting out a pained moan and grasping at his head. "Fuck. Oh, Jesus. Fuck."

"I'm here, Dean." This time Sam kept his voice low and Dean still winced.

"Hospital?"

"Yeah, you're banged up pretty good. I'm o.k., though."

"Did we get her?"

Sam glanced up quickly as the nurse again shot him a look. "Get who, Dean?"

"The zombie chick."

"There is no zombie chick, Dean. It was just a horror movie marathon." It was another symptom of how confused Dean was that he was mentioning a hunt in the middle of a bunch of civilians. Not to mention a hunt that had been over a month ago. Sam had just gotten the splint off his broken arm a few days ago. "Is it normal for him to be confusing reality with horror movies?" he asked. "We saw that movie over a month ago."

"When your brain takes a shot like that, a lot of things get confused. What's real. When things happen. He should have everything straightened out in a few days. If he doesn't, get him back here for more tests."

"There was too a zombie chick." Dean's voice was slurred and low. "She broke your delicate arm."

"Dean," Sam leaned over to speak softly into his brother's ear. "If you don't stop talking about zombie chicks they're not going to let me take you out of here in the morning. They'll keep you here and put you in a straight jacket."

"'M in a hospital?" Dean was nodding, and finally his head dropped and he fell into unconsciousness.

Sam sighed and ran his hand gently over his brother's head. "Yeah, you're in a hospital. Again." The nurse brought Sam a blanket and told him to make himself comfortable. They'd be in and out during the night to check on Dean and he should just call them if he needed anything, or Dean seemed in distress. Then they dimmed the lights and left them alone. Sam stared at Dean's bruised face and ran his thumb back and forth over his brother's hand. Eventually he lowered his head to the bed and fell asleep, waking a few times with Dean to reassure him that he was there and to remind his brother of where he was.

Sam always woke up earlier than Dean and the next morning was no exception. He slowly shook himself awake and carefully extricated himself from under Dean's hand. Even unconscious it was uncanny how Dean could make sure Sam was within reach. The bruises on Dean's face had deepened to purple overnight and his his breathing hitched painfully with every exhalation. Sam stared at him apprehensively, hoping that the Dean that woke up this morning would be more like his brother than the dazed, blinded, noise sensitive man he had been last night. A nurse that Sam didn't recognize bustled into the room, giving him a cool, professional smile. The shifts had changed and the new nurses wouldn't know how difficult dealing with a hurt, woozy Dean could be.

"Good morning!" the nurse said. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to step out for a few minutes while I do a few checks on my patient. I understand you've been here all night. Why don't you run down to the cafeteria and get something to eat. It'll be about a half hour until I'm done in here and you look like you could use the fuel."

"He was having some trouble last night remembering where he was and what he doing here. Do you think when he wakes up he'll know where he is?" Sam didn't want to leave and have Dean wake up alone, not knowing what had happened.

"Well, we won't know that until he wakes up. If he comes around while you're gone, I'll tell him you just went to get something to eat and we'll page you. But you really can't stay while I'm doing my exam. Don't worry, we'll let you know when you can come back in. Now go and eat something before you end up in the next bed over."

Sam had misgivings about leaving and intended to go no further than the hallway so he could hear Dean if he woke up, but he really was starving. Figuring that just a few minutes away wouldn't hurt, he headed downstairs. The cafeteria wasn't crowded at that time of the morning and he snagged a breakfast sandwich and a cup of coffee and settled in at a table to enjoy his food. Ten minutes later he felt a hundred percent better and, grabbing another cup of coffee, he headed back upstairs. The curtain was still drawn around Dean's bed, but he could hear muted voices coming from behind it.

"Wanna talk to him, get him in here now." Dean's voice was no louder than a whisper and the amount of pain Sam could hear in it had him wincing, but it sounded clearer than last night.

The nurse's reply was low and soothing. "I've just got a few more things to take care of and then we'll get him in here." Yeah, Sam could have told her _that_wasn't going to go over well.

"_Now."_The voice was no louder, but had turned into a pain filled growl. "You're not fucking touching me again until I see that my brother's o.k.. And knock off the bitch-face, my brother does it much better."

Sam heard a huff from behind the curtain. "Your eyes are covered. You have no idea what my face looks like."

"Trust me, when you've lived with the bitch-face as long as I have you don't need to see it to know it's there." Even though the pain and volume levels hadn't changed, the tinge of amusement in Dean's voice lifted Sam's heart. "Please, you told me what happened, but I don't remember. I need to know he's all right."

The nurse sighed again.

"He does that better too."

Now _her_voice sounded amused. "Really. Bitch-faces and sighs. And just what does a charmer like you do to earn so much disapproval?"

This time Dean sighed. "I dunno. Everything I guess. Everything I do is a fuck up." And the humor was gone now, just the pain remained. As quickly as it had come, the lightness in Sam's chest evaporated. Dean's armor was always chink free around strangers. Hell, even around family it was a cold day in Hell when he let how he was really feeling show. If he was letting his insecurities out to the nurses, he was still very messed up in his head.

"Hey," the tone was softer now. "He sat with you all night and I had to throw him out to go get some food while I examined you. He can't dislike you that much."

"He's really here?" The hesitation in Dean's voice was killing Sam. "You know, if he left you can tell me."

Sam couldn't stand it any more. He knocked on the door and cleared his throat as he entered. "Hey, done in there yet?"

The nurse pulled back the curtain. "No, but your brother won't let me finish until you tell him for yourself that you're all right. So tell him then get back out into the hallway so I can finish up here."

"I'm fine, jerk. Now let her finish so I can come back in and we can figure out what we're going to do when they spring you."

"Five minutes," the nurse promised and closed the curtain. Four minutes later she motioned Sam back into the room. "His doctor will be in to check on him in about an hour during morning rounds. He'll let you know when he can be released."

Sam came back into the room closing the door behind him. He took his seat next to Dean and laid his hand on his brother's arm.

"What happened, Sam?"

"Routine salt and burn turned not so routine. You hit your head on a stone."

"What kind'a stone?"

"What kind of stone do you think?"

"Tripped?"

"Thrown."

"Don't remember. Finished?"

"No. You were out and it was all over you. I didn't even have the grave half dug and there was no way it was going to let me finish. I banished it and grabbed you and took off."

"Gotta finish the job."

"We will, Dean. But you're in no shape to go out there and I can't do it by myself. When we do go back we're going to need some strong protection spells. There's something different about this thing. I'm going to do some more research into Jenkins before we go back out."

"Who's Jenkins?"

Sam sighed. "I'm not going to explain everything to you now, Dean. If you remember this conversation the next time you wake up, we'll go from here. I've lined up a place for us to stay for the next week. It's probably going to take at least that long for you to be back on your feet again. Your sight's going to be messed up for at least two or three days and your head's going to be killing you for a couple of days past that. Your ribs are only bruised, but they'll hurt like a son of a bitch for a while. Your wrist's the least of your problems, by the time everything else is healed up you'll be able to take your share of the grave digging."

"Been doin' all of it for a while now, bitch."

Sam felt a small leap at Dean's words. "You remember? Me hurting my arm?"

Dean's eyes shifted. "Sort'a. When I try too hard to think about it it goes away."

"Good. That's good, Dean. It'll all come back eventually." Sam hoped so anyway. Explaining about Andy and his evil twin and the fact that all the psychic kids so far have turned out to be killers isn't something Sam wanted to do. Dean _liked_Andy and Sam wanted him to remember that. Dean's breakdown on the way out of town after their zombie hunt wasn't something Sam wanted to have happen again either. If Dean didn't remember it, he might let it all build up again until he burst and Sam didn't want his brother to have to go through that a second time.

The exam and conversation seemed to have worn Dean out and he rested back against his pillow and was silent until his doctor came in to examine him. Sam had been out in the hallway for about twenty minutes when the doctor called for him to come back in.

"I'm going to be releasing your brother this morning, provided you can assure me he's going to go straight home and rest. He needs to be somewhere quiet and dark, or these next few days are going to be a lot more difficult than they have to be."

Sam gave the doctor a level look. "We don't live around here, but I've made arrangements to stay at a little place outside of town. Some cabins one of the nurses told me about. She said they're very quiet and I'm assuming they have curtains. He'll be as quiet as I can make him."

The doctor returned Sam's look with a wry one of his own. "As quiet as you can make him, then. Hopefully you can keep him more settled down than we can here. A nurse will be by soon with his discharge papers and some prescriptions you'll have to fill. Keep his eyes covered for the next day. After that you can gradually increase the amount of light as much as he can tolerate. Any problems with his breathing, or if his pain levels don't decrease, you get him back here a.s.a.p., you understand me?"

"Yes sir." Sam replied and meant it. Dean was going to keep his ass in bed and quiet if Sam had to chain him to the bedpost.

Shortly before noon, Dean was being wheeled out the front door by a muscular orderly. He had protested the chair to the best of his ability, insisting he could walk, but his complaints had tapered off when the pain in his head made just sitting up an agonizing challenge. Between the two of them, Sam and the orderly got Dean situated in the passenger seat. Sam had wanted him lying down in the back until the orderly pointed out that Sam was going to have to get Dean back out of the Impala by himself and it would be a lot easier from a sitting position close to the door. With an admiring look at the Impala and a "Damn but that's a smokin' car!" that Sam knew Dean was going to be pissed to have missed, the orderly left them and Sam took his place in the driver's seat. Between Dean's ribs and his head, there was no comfortable way to position himself, so he just curled in on himself and rested his head against the seat, facing Sam.

Sam drove as slowly as he could manage and kept a steady, soothing conversation going with his brother. It was a pretty one sided conversation as Dean was incapable of anything more than pained gasps and moans and even though it only took about twenty minutes to get to the cabins it seemed to Sam to take as many years. He pulled up in front of the cabin with the "Whispering Brook Office" sign and felt a brief moment of panic. There was no way Dean was coming into the office and Sam couldn't just leave him in the car. He was about to honk the horn and apologize for his rudeness when the manager came out, when he remembered what the sound of Impala's horn would do to Dean's sensitive hearing. Sam let out what he knew Dean would consider one of his best sighs ever and wondered why not one fucking thing in their lives could ever be easy. Just as Sam was reluctantly opening his door, a woman came out of the office and headed in his direction.

"Hey!" she greeted him with a smile. "Are you Sam?" Sam nodded and she bent down to take a look in the front seat, her face getting serious when she saw Dean. "Katie called to say you were coming. Your cabin is all set for you. It's the last one down this road. Why don't you head on down there and get your brother settled in and I'll bring the paperwork to you. Poor thing looks like he needs to be in bed five minutes ago."

"Thank you," Sam said, and put every bit of the sincere thanks he was feeling into the words. He got back into the car and drove past a playground and a picnic area to the last cabin at the edge of the woods. He parked as close to the steps as possible and hurried around to get Dean out of the car. Dean hissed through gritted teeth as Sam gingerly eased him off the seat and swayed as he was lifted to his feet.

"Sorry, Dean, sorry. Can you stay on your feet if you lean on me?" The little color Dean had under his bruises was draining out of his face until it was the same shade as the gauze covering his eyes. Sam wanted to get Dean inside as quickly as possible, but moving too fast would be disastrous. There was just no way to do this without hurting Dean, so Sam wrapped his arm around his brother's waist and winced as he felt Dean's whimper at the pressure on his bruised ribs. Tears were running down Dean's face by the time Sam basically dragged him up the steps to the cabin's porch and through the door. Sam said a silent thanks to the manager when he saw the already turned down bed and deposited Dean on it gently, positioning his head on the extra pillows and talking him through the panting, pained hyperventilating he was suffering.

"S'm? God. Hurts. 'Happened?" The words were panted out almost soundlessly.

Sam leaned over to whisper in Dean's ear. "Concussion, bruised ribs, sprained wrist."

"C'ss'n? 'gain? F'ck." With that Dean subsided into an attempt to control his breathing and relax, neither of which was particularly successful. With a few more soft words to his brother, Sam went out to unload their clothes and the general supplies and weapons bags from the car. As he returned to the cabin he twitched at the feeling of eyes on him. Slowly turning in a circle, he let his eyes sweep the surrounding woods, but saw nothing. Any hunter that discounted a feeling like that as probably being an animal was a hunter that would soon be dead, so Sam backed to the cabin and laid down salt lines as soon as he got inside.

Dean was lying still on the bed, breathing more normally so Sam took a minute to explore the cabin. Once again, the owners had shown their thoughtfulness by leaving a few days supply of food in the small kitchen. Sam had enough meds to last for a day or two so he wouldn't have to leave Dean too soon to go on a supply run. He wandered the few steps to the other side of the cabin and peeked out the back door. Two steps led down to a small yard from which a trail ran off into the woods. He didn't feel eyes upon him from this side of the cabin and he closed the door and salted across it. It was just mid afternoon at this point, but Sam was exhausted and as long as Dean was resting, he might as well nap too. Settling on the other bed, he was out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Outside the cabin, at the edge of the woods, Richard Jenkins flickered into existence. He'd have to be more careful, somehow the boy had suspected he was there. A day or two, he'd read in the boy's mind. Then he'd go for supplies. Leave the other alone. He smiled to himself. He'd done some of his best hunting in these woods. Would never have been found out if his damn heart hadn't given out as he was toying with what turned out to be his last victim. His last victim while he was alive anyway. Since his death he had added a dozen more. This one would be lucky thirteen. He had felt the man's physical pain from the woods, but the psychic pain underneath was what he was really after. A few days more and it would all be his.


	2. Chapter 2

For Dean the next few days passed in a haze of pain and confusion. Whenever he woke, gasping and not knowing where he was, Sam was there, explaining quietly again and again what had happened. Sam took the coverings off his eyes on the second day and kept the room dark while he worked quietly on his laptop. The ease with which Jenkins had taken down Dean at the cemetery was bothering him and he wanted to get some strong protections in place for the next time they encountered him. A stronger and more permanent banishing spell was the first item he got squared away followed by more extensive background checks on Jenkins and his victims. There had been a lot of unexplained disappearances in the area spanning almost thirty years before Jenkins had been found, collapsed over the not quite dead body of Candace Durgan. The poor woman had not lasted long afterward but had managed to choke out a tale of madness and terror before she died. Her worst nightmares she had said. Everything she was afraid of was in the woods with her. She had no memory of Jenkins, which in Sam's mind could have been trauma, or could have been because Jenkins had done something to her mind. Sam thought back to Andy and Ansom and their mind control. Nothing was beyond the realm of possibility.

By the third day, Sam was going stir crazy. When Dean's morning trip to the bathroom didn't leave him curled in a fetal position on the bed, Sam thought he might be o.k. on his own for a few hours. They were running out of food and Sam had used the last of the meds from the hospital that morning. "Dean. Hey, Dean." Sam spoke softly, crouched down beside Dean's bed. "I need to go out for a while. Get some food and fill your prescriptions. In a few more days you can have the good stuff. And I'm going to get you a cheeseburger so maybe you'll eat something." It had been a real fight to get Dean to take any food, but Sam had threatened him with a trip back to the hospital if he didn't at least eat soup and drink enough water to keep himself hydrated.

"Beer," Dean muttered.

"What?"

"Beer with my cheeseburger."

"Yeah, no." Sam grinned though he knew Dean couldn't see him. "How're the eyes?"

Dean peered up at him in the dim light through the curtains. "Just as geeky as ever, Sammy." He paused, then, "O.k., enough with the bitchface. Still no good. You could be anything. Werewolf, spirit, really wide lamp. Might need to get a dog."

Sam huffed because he knew Dean expected it, but his spirits lifted at Dean's words. His brother's eyes might not be working quite right yet, and he still couldn't make it to the bathroom and back without his head splitting in two, but at least his brain was coming back on line. Still, Sam could see the way Dean tensed up at the thought of him leaving. Dean would be here by himself. Effectively blind and unable to take more than a few steps without collapsing in pain. Totally helpless should anything come through the door. Sam didn't want to arm him. Dean still wasn't over his bouts of confusion, though they were getting fewer and farther between.

"Hey," he said quietly, "don't worry. I've got salt lines across every way in and the place is warded to the max. I'll only be gone a little while."

Now Dean huffed. "Not worried about me, bitch. I know what kind of trouble you get into without me to watch your back."

Yeah, o.k. The jerk would never admit to being scared, but Sam wasn't going to argue with him about it now. He wanted to get out, get his supplies and get back. "Be back soon, Dean."

"Don't forget my beer!" followed him out the door. Once outside Sam paused to scan the area. The feeling of being watched was absent today, but Sam still felt reluctant to leave Dean, even though he knew it was necessary.

Jenkins waited until the sound of the Impala had faded into the distance before materializing on the back steps of the cabin. He knew he had time. The nearest grocery store was a half hour away and by the time the boy finished his shopping and getting his prescriptions filled it would be several hours before he got back. All he needed was a few minutes to get his brother out of the cabin and into the woods. Once there he would have plenty of time to play. And when the time was right he would let the boy find them. Two was always much more fun to play with.

Jenkins gave Dean half an hour to fall into a restless sleep before banging hard against the back door. Dean opened his eyes muzzily and turned his head to the door as two more hard thumps and a strangled "Dean!" sounded through it.

"Sam?" Dean called and then closed his eyes to pant through the spike of pain the noise shot through his head. _Damn it._ He reached under his pillow for his knife and groped around before realizing it wasn't there. Fucking Sam left him without even _that_ much protection? Probably afraid he was going to slit his own throat in his sleep. Searching for the weapons bag was out. In the unlikely event that he happened to stumble over it, it would take all the energy he would need just to make it to the door. Fuck it. Maybe he'd get lucky and fall over whatever had Sam out there and distract it enough for Sam to get away. Or maybe his blind, staggering self would be better prey and it would just let Sam go. Sam had described the layout of the cabin to him and Dad had done drill after drill of how to navigate blind so Dean dragged himself to the edge of the bed and, keeping one hand pressed to the wall, took two unsteady steps and felt for the doorknob. Another thump rattled the door and the hoarse "Dean, don't" that came through sounded weaker. _Shit. Shit! _Dean knew that he was being unbearably stupid, but if it really were Sam in trouble out there, he had to do something so he opened the door and fell through.

The bright sunlight hit Dean's eyes like a sledgehammer and he tripped down the the two steps to crash into the ground with a whimpering grunt. Jenkins stared down at the quivering figure with satisfaction. All he had needed to do was get Dean out from behind the protected walls of the cabin. From now on whatever Dean thought he was doing or seeing would be controlled completely by the spirit. Jenkins reached down and pulled Dean to his feet, ignoring his cry of pain. He pushed into Dean's mind, forcing the pain to the background and putting the vision of a bloody Sam being dragged into the woods in it's place. Jenkins dragged Dean down the path and into the woods, making him believe he was under his own power the whole time.

Sam had loaded the groceries into the Impala before heading out for the pharmacy where he had filled the scripts for Dean's meds. They still weren't ready when he got there so he headed off to a burger joint across the street. He wanted to get back to his brother, but since he had to wait anyway, he figured he'd make good on his promise of a cheeseburger. Dean had to eat something or he'd never get better. He put the order in and paid for the food then settled down with a coffee to wait.

"Sam. Hey, Sam!" The bright voice was coming from a young woman a few tables behind him. "How's your brother doing?"

"Um, hey." Sam got up and moved to join her. "He's getting there. Vision's still a little hazy. Head too. But he's not as forgetful and he's moving a little better." He wracked his brain for what the woman at the cabins had called her. "Katie, right?"

"That's me. How are you liking the accommodations? Cabin o.k.?"

"Everything's great. I can't tell you how much I appreciate everything you and your in-laws have done. It's such a nice place I can't believe we're the only people staying there."

"Well, you know how it is. You didn't seem like the type to believe in ghosts so I figured you wouldn't mind staying out there. Some people are really stupid when it comes to things like believing that hauntings are real."

Sam's gaze sharpened and she leaned back a little in her chair. "You don't, do you?"

"Why don't you tell me about the hauntings and I'll make up my mind what I believe."

"Well, about ten years ago a woman almost got killed in one of the campsites in the state forest out behind the cabins. I say almost got killed, because the only reason she didn't die then was that the psycho that was killing her dropped dead first. Poor woman was never right after that. Got committed to a mental facility upstate and died there a few weeks later. After that people started claiming to _see_things out there. Wasn't very good for business."

"The woman that was attacked. Was that Candace Durgan?"

"Yes." Katie was hesitant. "Sam, what..."

"And the psycho was Richard Jenkins?"

"Yes, but..."

"I thought that happened at a place called Shady Pines."

"It did. My in-laws bought the place a few years later and renamed it. Figured they'd give people a few years to forget and a new name, and business would pick up again. Sam? What's wrong?" By the time the last word left her mouth, she was speaking to an empty chair and thirty seconds later the Impala was headed back to the cabins.

_Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck. How could he have missed this? He had left his incapacitated brother right on the edge of this fucking thing's hunting ground. _Sam's hands wrapped around the steering wheel in a white knuckled grip. _Calm down. He's probably fine. The cabin's warded, no way anything's getting in and he can't take two steps without falling over. He's fine. _The problem was that Sam couldn't quite convince himself of that. The cabin _was _warded and there was no way anything unnatural was getting through. Dean though? Just because he _shouldn't_ get out of bed didn't mean he_ couldn't _get out of bed or that he damned well_ wouldn't _get out of bed. If he thought he needed to, he'd find a way to get himself up and out of the door. And, if Jenkins was the psychic Sam thought he was, there were ways to make Dean think he needed to.

Jenkins pulled Dean just a short way down the path before taking a side trail leading to one of the campsites. Dean had left the cabin wearing just a t-shirt and sweat pants and his bare feet were scraped and bleeding from the rocky ground. Jenkins felt eyes on him as he dragged Dean into the clearing, but he paid the sensation no mind. He had coerced close to a hundred people into these woods, some from hundreds of miles away and none of the bodies had ever been found. His spirit came here often to visit his victims, often forcing them to relive their final moments. They'd gather around the clearing, he knew, watching him add another number to their ranks.

The spirit brought Dean to the middle of the campsite and dropped him. Dean sprawled on his back, eyes tightly closed and gasping for breath, but in his mind he stood staring in horror at the sight of his brother's body lying in front of him. He rushed across the clearing and dropped to his knees beside Sam. Blood matted Sam's hair and stained his shirt. Dean reached to search for a pulse that he really held no hope of finding and choked back a sob as his other hand carded through Sam's hair and felt the indentation in his skull. Tears ran unchecked down his face and he pulled Sam up into his lap, wrapping his arms tightly around his brother and pressing his head to Sam's shoulder. He nearly dropped Sam when he felt a weak, rattling breath lift his chest. Shifting his grip so he could see his brother's face, Dean found himself staring into terrified, pain filled eyes.

"Dean?" Sam gasped. "God, help me please. Hurts so much, Dean."

"Sammy," Dean breathed. "It's o.k., you're going to be fine. You hear me? Fine. You're not leaving me. Not leaving me, Sammy."

Dean gripped his brother tighter as Sam convulsed in his arms and then grew still. Sam's eyes weren't terrified and pain filled now, they were just empty. Dean continued to hold his brother and his mouth whispered entreaties into Sam's deaf ears. "Don't go. Please don't go Sammy. Can't do it. Not alone." His broken pleas continued until a shadow dropped across his vision and strong hands were prying Sam away from him. Dean struck out at the figure that was trying to take his brother from him and got in return a fist to the jaw that sent him hard onto his back. When he had shaken his head clear and lifted it from the ground, the first thing he saw was Sam cradled in his father's arms.

"Dad?' Dean whispered. Somewhere in the back of his mind a part of him was screaming. _Wrong! This isn't right! _, until a burst of pain shot through his skull and spiraled through his nerves until any thoughts he had about his father were drowned and then the pain was gone, taking his misgivings with it.

"Sammy," John whispered softly while he gently rocked his son's body. "I'm so sorry. So sorry I left you. Didn't protect you."

Dean painfully clambered to his knees and reached a hand towards Sam. It hadn't quite reached his cheek when his father's fist connected with his jaw again.

"Don't you fucking touch him, Dean. Don't you _dare._ I trusted you. Left him in your protection. I gave you your _life _and this is what you do? I mean, did you even try to save him? Or was the job too much for you and you just let him get killed so _you_ wouldn't have to deal with it?"

Dean's heart was ice and he shook at the look of pure hatred on John's face. "I didn't... Dad, I can't..." he stammered.

"I know you didn't Dean. I'm holding my son's body. I can damned well _see_ that you didn't. And you _can't_? Jesus, I don't know what possessed me to ever think you _could._ When I told you you'd have to save Sam or kill him, I was sure as hell planning on you choosing the _save_ option. I should have known better. Nothing you've ever done in your whole life should have let me believe that you'd actually be able to do this one simple thing. Watch out for Sammy. That's all I asked. I should have known you'd screw it up." John rose to his feet, bringing Sam up with him and turned to walk towards the trail.

"Dad? Where are you going?" Dean's voice was a cracked whisper.

"You know where I'm going, Dean. Because of you, I have to take care of my son's body. I have to burn it. Sam's going to burn like his mother. The only two people who ever meant anything to me have ended in fire."

"Take me with you." Dean hated how weak his voice sounded, but he had to be with Sam.

"Take you with me? You just don't get it do you? Your brother is _dead._He's dead because you screwed up and didn't protect him. You're not going to be anywhere near his funeral. You'll never know where his ashes are, where he was laid to rest. Because you don't deserve to have anything to do with this. And when I'm done with Sam, I'm coming back for you. You can run, but I'll find you. And if I were you, I'd take care of things myself before I get to you. Suicide will be a hell of a lot quicker than what I've got planned."

Dean slowly raised himself to his hands and knees. His whole body felt empty, like he had died with his father's words. He didn't know how he would manage, but he wasn't going to be left behind. He was going with Sam.

John turned to see Dean attempting to get up and took a few steps back toward his son. When he was close enough, he looked into Dean's devastated face and smiled bitterly. The last thing Dean saw was the sole of his father's boot slamming into his face.

Jenkins stared down at Dean's body in satisfaction. The pain his victims felt was like a drug to him and he always wanted more. The pain Dean had felt at his brother's death and his father's words wasn't enough, but he would let him rest a while before his next scenario would play out. He wouldn't want Dean to burn out too soon.

Sam pulled the Impala up to the cabin and rushed inside only to find Dean's bed empty and the back door ajar. He ran to the door and looked out at the path, hoping Dean had just gotten confused and hadn't managed to make it very far. His hopes were dashed by the empty trail. He hurriedly returned to the cabin and grabbed the weapons bag, making sure to put in extra salt shells for the shotgun. It was physically impossible for Dean to have gone anywhere on his own. Sam knew what his brother was capable of and it was a damned lot when it had to be, but this time Dean had to have been taken.

Sam left the cabin at a quick trot and headed down the path into the forest. He held Dean's EMF detector in one hand and the shotgun in the other. He paused at a sign just outside the tree line and studied a map of the trails and the campsites hoping like hell Jenkins had taken his brother to one of the sites. If he had just taken him into the forest he might never find them. As Sam headed deeper into the woods the EMF crackled and whined in every direction he pointed it. He whacked it a few times with his palm, but it continued it's behavior. He sighed as he decided it probably had a short circuit and put it back in the weapons bag. He hoped that it was malfunctioning, because if it wasn't he was surrounded by some serious shit.

The trail to the first campsite was coming up on his right and Sam was beginning to see traces of blood along the trail. Dean's blood he was sure as he followed the drops onto the trail to his right. He was looking down, so the only warning he got was seeing his breath puff out on his exhale. Sam lifted the shotgun and was about to fire, when he saw that the spirit wasn't Jenkins. It was a much younger man with haunted eyes and a terrified expression on his face.

"Don't," it breathed in a barely audible voice. "He'll hear you."

"Who'll hear me?" Sam replied in the same tone.

"You know who. The one who has your brother. The devil."

"Where are they?" Sam's voice was still low, but the tone promised violence if the spirit didn't answer.

"You can't go down there. He'll get you too, and then you'll both be with us. But if you let us help you we can all get what we want."

Sam's brain screamed at him to get moving. That Jenkins was hurting Dean while he was standing here talking with this ghost. But the spirit was right. The banishing spell for Jenkins wouldn't last long enough to get Dean out of here. He had to find out what the ghost had in mind.

"He's not hurting his body. Not yet. For now he's only hurting him in his head. It's not real even though it feels like it is. He'll keep that up for a long time before he moves on to physical pain."

"How can we help each other?" It was taking all of Sam's self control to not just run down the path no matter what the consequences would be. Hurting Dean in his head? What the hell did that mean?

"You know about him. What he can do. How to make him go away. No one who's ever come here before could do anything for us. There are over a hundred of us here now and I think that will be enough. We can hold him here. Together we're more powerful than he is. Some of us are afraid, but we've got to try. Someone like you may never come along again and if he takes you we're stuck here with him forever."

"You hold him here and then what? Will I be able to get my brother out?"

"You will. Shoot the devil with that gun of yours and while he's putting himself back together, you grab your brother and we'll make our circle. By the time he gets back we'll be in charge."

"If you can do that what do you need me for? Why haven't you done this already?" _Why didn't you do this before he took my brother?_

"We can keep him here, but then what? We all just stay at this campground forever? No. We want to move on but he won't let us. He needs to be destroyed and you can do that for us. Once he's gone we can go too."

Sam was beginning to understand the spirit's plan. "You keep Jenkins here while I go salt and burn his bones. Then all hundred something of you will move on? How do I know I can trust you? I really don't want to have to dig up this whole forest to get rid of the rest of you if you decide to cause trouble after I get rid of your problem for you."

"We will go." The voice was coming from the spirit in front of him, but he seemed to have a hundred inflections speaking through him. "We're tired of hurting and being afraid. Anywhere is better than this."

"We will block you from him as you go down the path. When you see him, shoot. Then go to your brother and we will do the rest."

Sam nodded and headed down the path to Dean.

Dean stirred into consciousness, his head still ringing from the impact of his father's boot. A hand patted his face and an anxious voice called his name. _Sam_, he thought sluggishly before memory crashed into him. _No , no not Sam. Sam's dead. Dead because you fucked up. Dad said so. Took Sammy away._Dean moaned and turned his head away from the voice.

"Dean!" Sam shook his brother harder. "I'm not dead, Dean I'm right here. Right here, Dean."

"Sam?" Dean's voice was confused but hopeful. "Not dead?" He turned his head and looked up at his brother's face looming over him. "Sammy?"

Sam pulled his brother to a sitting position and smiled as Dean leaned into him and gripped him tight. He tipped Dean's head back so he could see his face in full. "How are you? Did he hurt you, Dean?"

Dean's head was hurting from where he'd been kicked but otherwise he felt fine and he told Sam so. Sam was alive. Nothing else mattered right now.

"Good. That's good, Dean. I'm glad you're not hurt." Sam pulled his brother to his feet and pushed him against a nearby tree, standing so close that Dean could feel the heat from his body.

"Glad you're not dead, but you're kinda in my personal space here Sammy."

A harsh laugh sounded from behind Sam. "Gonna be in more than that in a little while." John stepped around to Sam's side and they both smiled at Dean from underneath yellow eyes.

"Good to see you again, Dean." The demon in John's body purred. "We didn't exactly get to play the games I wanted last time we met, but this time I'm going all the way. Right down to tasting the iron in your blood." The demon smiled and licked its lips as it leered at Dean.

"We're going to be a family again, Dean." Sam murmured into his ear. "Me and Dad are going to love you so much you'll scream from it. Dad and me and you forever. Doesn't that sound nice?" Sam traced a finger down Dean's throat and a trail of blood followed after it. "Going to paint you red Dean. Looks so good on you."

"No, no Sammy don't. Please don't. Dad, please fight. You did before. Don't let them do this." Dean's pleading only made the demons laugh.

"That was before Daddy went to hell for you Dean. Before you let Sam get killed. Neither of them is exactly eager to help you out. They're more in a hurt him as much as you want to frame of mind." As the John demon spoke it ran its hand up under Dean's t-shirt and Dean gasped in pain as he felt his skin begin to slick with blood. John pulled his hand out and sucked the blood from his fingers. "Mmmm. Just as tasty as I thought. I'm going to be enjoying this for a long time, Dean. Try some, Sammy. Once you've had Dean, you'll never go back to ordinary blood."

Sam put his mouth to Dean's throat and sucked the blood directly from his skin. Dean hissed and tried to pull away but he was held tight by the demons' power. "God, Dean. You're so fucking delicious." Sam licked up Dean's neck and traced his bloody tongue along his brother's lips. "See? Tastes good huh? Dad and I are going to suck you dry. Well, not dry because then you'd be dead and we're not going to let _that _happen. Even though you let it happen to both of us."

Dean cried out as Sam's mouth found its way to his chest and John's hand traced his ribs. The pain was more unbearable than it had been in the cabin and Dean felt as though his life was draining out of him through his skin. He let out one more scream of _Please stop!_and something must have heard him because suddenly his brother and father were gone and his world dissolved into pain free blackness.

Sam had silently descended the trail to the campsite and the spirits plan had worked. He had arrived at the clearing to see Jenkins corporeal self standing over Dean, totally oblivious to Sam's presence. His spirit ally had explained that Jenkins was only hurting Dean in his mind and not his body, but when Sam arrived, his brother's body was arched up off the ground and pained cries were coming from his lips. Sam didn't hesitate for one second. As soon as he had a shot he took it and Jenkins exploded into nothingness. Sam ran to Dean's side and pulled his brother to his feet, slinging Dean over his shoulder and running to the edge of the path.

When Jenkins rematerialized, he started toward Sam and Sam ducked back onto the path. He couldn't see the line of spirits that closed in front of him, but he could feel their power humming and heard a crackle as Jenkins' power ran into theirs and was rebuffed.

Sam headed up the path as quickly as he dared, balancing his need for speed with his need to avoid causing Dean any more damage. Jenkins may have only hurt Dean in his mind, but his body had been badly injured before the spirit even got started. He didn't know how long the spirits would be able to contain Jenkins. They seemed to think they could hold him indefinitely, but Sam sure as hell wasn't going to trust Dean's safety to a bunch of dead people. He was going to go straight to the cemetery and finish the salt and burn he hadn't been able to finish the other night. Dean would have to go with him, there was no way Sam was leaving him back at the cabin by himself. When Jenkins was taken care of he'd get Dean back to bed but until then Sam wasn't letting his brother out of his sight.

Sam made it out of the woods and was heading for the Impala when he remembered the groceries in the back seat. Damn it, more time wasted while he took the things out. As he approached the car, he noticed a piece of paper on the windshield.

_Dear Sam, _it read,_sorry I spooked you back in town. To apologize I brought you the food you left behind and picked up your prescriptions. Even unloaded your groceries for you. Dean must be feeling better if you two went out. Sorry again. Katie._

Sam finished reading the note as he was lowering Dean to the back seat and spreading a blanket over him. Sam got into the driver's seat and quickly but carefully made his way back to the graveyard. When he arrived there was still plenty of daylight left, but the area was isolated and there were no other people around. Sam got Dean out of the back seat and lay him on the blanket close to the grave where he could keep an eye on him. Sam could have set an Olympic grave digging record with the speed that he finished making his way to Jenkins' coffin. He broke through the top and doused the corpse with lighter fluid and salt before lighting a match and dropping it inside. The bones caught fire with a satisfying whoosh and Sam sat down on the blanket and pulled Dean into his arms, holding his shaking brother as the flames warmed them. Sam wasn't taking any chances with this spirit. When the fire died down he was going to smash any bones that might be left and burn them again.

Several hours later the fire was dying down and Dean was stirring in Sam's aching arms. Sam ran his fingers through Dean's sweat soaked hair and made soothing noises, but as soon as Dean heard his brother's voice he stiffened and tried to push Sam away.

"Don't Sam. Please, Dad." The panic in Dean's voice made Sam's insides turn to ice. What had he and Dad done to Dean in Jenkins' twisted imagination?

"It's okay, Dean. It's me. Sam. I'm not going to hurt you."

Dean only struggled harder. "Said that before. Lied. Yellow eyes. Why can't I see you?"

Sam kept his voice soft and held onto Dean tightly. "You can't see me because you have a concussion. You haven't been able to see right for days. The me you saw today wasn't real, Dean. You could see it because a spirit put the image directly into your mind. You know it wasn't real Dean. Not if Dad was there."

"Dad," Dean choked. "He was so mad, Sammy. You were dead and he said...he said.." Dean trailed off, but Sam could imagine what Jenkins would have had Dad say to Dean to make him so broken.

"Dad didn't say anything Dean. The spirit said it and made you think it was Dad."

"Dad did say something, Sammy. But I won't. Not ever."

Sam pulled Dean tighter and felt Dean's hands fist in his shirt, holding him tight. "Don' leave me Sammy." His voice got weaker and then he was out again. Sam sat by the fire until it was out and he could be certain there was nothing left but ashes, then he loaded Dean back into the Impala and headed back to the cabin. It wasn't the ideal place to stay, but it was close and well stocked and Dean needed to be there.

Dean was out for nearly two days after his ordeal in the woods, he would whimper and cry out in his sleep, but never wake. Sam would soothe him through these bouts of nightmare and talk softly to him until they were done. On the third day, Dean woke calling out for Sam. Sam was there in an instant, sitting on the bed and putting his hand on his brother's arm.

"Dean, hey. How do you feel?" All the worry and heartache Sam had been going through in the last few days came through clearly in his voice.

"Tired. Head hurts." Dean stared up at Sam. "You look like hell, Sammy. How long've I been out?"

"Two days since the second time our spirit got it's hands on you. About five since your original concussion." Dean's words finally penetrated. "I look like hell? Dean, can you see me?"

"Yeah, why? Concussion screw with my head like usual?"

"Yeah, it did. What do you remember?"

Dean's eyes went blank for a moment. "Not much. Did we come here hunting a spirit?"

"Yes," Sam's tone was guarded. He didn't know for sure what Jenkins had done to Dean in the woods, but from what Dean said at the grave and in his nightmares he had a pretty good idea. If Dean didn't remember, Sam didn't want to help his memory out any.

"Did we get it?"

"We did."

"Was I in a hospital?"

"You were."

"Did I have any hot nurses?"

"Not particularly."

"Then I think I remember everything I need to. We came, I got a concussion, we got the bad guy, no hot nurses. That about sum it up, Sammy?"

Sam laughed for what felt like the first time in forever. They'd stay here a few more days until Dean was ready to be on his feet and then they'd move on. Dean didn't remember. It felt like a blessing. His brother had more than enough baggage of his own to carry. He didn't need the crap Jenkins had put there to burden him as well.

"That about sums it up, Dean."


End file.
